


Sharing is Caring

by prometheanTactician



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drunkeness, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/prometheanTactician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrote this for the Fallout Kink Meme. Quinn is an asshole, but he really likes MacCready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing is Caring

No screams could be heard from outside the building. If he left people alive long enough to scream, either he fucked up his aim, or they fucked up with him badly enough to warrant something long and painful. Inside the building, however, it was a bloodbath. Two men came strolling out of it unbothered, actually seeming rather jovial. One of them was carrying a gun that was new to him, heavily modded and proven very effective. The other was gesturing excitedly as he spoke to the other.

“Oh man, that was great.” MacCready took off his hat to run a hand through his hair, short as it was, looking back at the building they’d just left. He stuck his hat back on, actually smiling for once. “I can’t believe you pulled that off! I mean, you actually got them to give you the caps-”

“I’m as charming as I am violent.” Quinn interjected calmly.

“Yeah, speaking of, then you just… killed them anyway!”

“They were scumbags.”

“Well… Yeah! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not arguing.” The quieter man’s companion added quickly. “They totally deserved it. It was just funny, y’know? You could’ve just taken their money afterwards.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” Quinn admitted, the hand not holding the new gun rising to stroke his chin in thought, scraping over light stubble. “But it was more fun this way, I think.”

“Man…” MacCready shook his head, laughing softly. “You are f- messed up.” Quinn wasn’t very inclined to disagree. He did what he loved, and what he was good at: killing and raking in the caps. But he stopped suddenly, causing MacCready to end up ahead of him before realizing and stopping to turn and look at him.

“Here.” Quinn held out the quite frankly badass gun for MacCready to take.

“Uh… What is that?”

“It’s a gun.” Totally deadpan, Quinn earned himself a small glare from his companion.

“I know that dumba- I know that.” He huffed, crossing his arms. “But it’s yours.”

“No it isn’t. We literally just got it.” With his free hand, the sole survivor gestured back at the building.

“No, you just got it. You nabbed it first.”

“Yeah, and I want you to have it.”

“You never share your sh- your things.”

“I’m not sharing. I’m giving.”

“You do that even less!”

“Jesus Christ, MacCready.” Quinn sighed harshly. “We both know I’m just going to end up using my combat rifle anyway. Just take the goddamn thing.”

MacCready narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and honestly, Quinn couldn’t blame him. The guy offering at the moment never offered anything. It was always about what people could do for him, what could benefit him. If he didn’t want something, he’d sell it and get himself some caps. He never did anything for free, and he never gave anything away for free. But here he was, holding out this kickass gun to his companion, apparently free of charge. He could excuse MacCready for not buying into it right away.

However, this gun was pretty cool, so after a moment of mentally wrestling with himself, MacCready snatched it from the offering hand, looking it over like he wasn’t completely impressed with it, even though he clearly was.

“Uh… well, thanks. I guess.” He glanced at Quinn again, who was already on his way again. It took MacCready a moment to process what had just happened. Quinn had just given him something. Completely for free. Quinn, who would likely let a gaggle of orphans burn to death if no one could pay him enough to save them. Quinn, whose shitlist was a mile long. Quinn, who he’d seen yank someone’s own spine out while they were still alive. He was pretty sure he’d been pretending the guy was Kellogg, actually.

He was starting to realize how much he could’ve fucked up, asking this guy to pay his usual rate. He was lucky he lived past that, let alone that Quinn actually paid him (albeit less than the asking price,) and thought it would land him pretty high on Quinn’s shitlist (there was an actual list, which he never let anyone else read.) But, apparently, the guy liked him enough to give him a cool gun. Or, was trying to lure him into a false sense of security to make him suffer all the more.

“....Goddammit.” He allowed himself that one swear, before hurrying after the other man.

 

\------

It had been a pretty long time since then. MacCready had come to… trust, for lack of a better word, that for some reason that likely only made sense in the dudes fucked up mind, Quinn liked him. The guy seemed to actually care about what happened to him. He’d gotten into the habit of offering MacCready weapons he found rather than immediately selling them. He actually smiled at MacCready, laughed quietly at his jokes. So far, MacCready hadn’t seen him like that around anyone else, but hadn’t decided exactly what that meant yet.

They didn’t go to Diamond City often. Too many people Quinn had the urge to kill, too many people looking for him to do something for nothing. That, and Nick Valentine giving them disapproving looks.

But they found themselves in the Dugout. The brothers apparently had a job offer- a job, not charity work- and figured they’d have a few drinks while they were there. It was late, about 3am, but honestly it was a matter of debate whether Quinn slept at all in the first place. There weren’t many people around anymore, just the brothers, the two armed jackasses at the bar, and a few other stragglers.

One of the stragglers, eventually, staggered up to the pair, too drunk to process the murderous looks or the guns. He just about fell against MacCready, draping an arm around him.

“Hey, jack- ugh. Hey, moron, quit breathing on me.” He snapped, shoving him off harshly. “Hands off.”

Quinn was very, very still, but MacCready and the drunken man were too caught up in their little situation to notice the intent way he was watching.

“Hey, y’know, you’re…. You’re pretty good lookin’!” The drunken man insisted, falling against the bar after MacCready pushed him.

“Yeah, I know, now buzz off.” The merc had about as much patience as his friend. Which is to say, none.

“Aw hey, come on… Just… just wanna talk! Or, y’know, fuck.”

“Then here’s an idea, go fuck yourself.” MacCready’s hand was already on his gun, but he didn’t have to draw it.

Vadim had asked if Quinn had ever been in a bar fight. Well, the vault-cicle hoped the guy was paying attention now.

Before anyone could really process him launching himself at the guy, Quinn was already wailing on him. He could’ve just shot him, sure, but as he probably would’ve said: where’s the fun in that? MacCready didn’t bother stepping in, sitting back, sipping his drink as he enjoyed the show,and no one else seemed to care enough. Except for Yafim, who seemed pretty distressed. When the guy stopped moving, simply lying limp on the floor, moaning in pain, Quinn finally stopped. He stood up, shook out his hands which were now pretty sore, and simply… sat back down. Things were very quiet for a moment, but only for a moment.

“So uh… what was that about?” MacCready glanced at him, watched as Quinn finished his drink before answering.

“You know better than anyone, Mac.” He smiled, that charming crooked smile he pulled out of his arsenal when bullets couldn’t do the trick. “I don’t share. Ever.”  
MacCready swallowed thickly, and stared. That really should not have made his chest flutter like it did.

“....Fuck.”


End file.
